


Follow Me! Follow You???

by China_Rose



Series: Loyalty Series [1]
Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/China_Rose/pseuds/China_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beta: Thanks to Neldluva for her marvellous grasp of grammar. Her efforts regarding this work are, as always, greatly appreciated. Thanks also to Thoks for his enthusiasm and suggestions. As always, any residual mistakes are mine.</p>
<p>A/N: I adore Tristan and I want to assure you no Tristan’s were hurt in the writing of this story.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: Obviously they are not mine but they come over sometimes and play at my house, so please don’t get mad ‘cause they want to spend time with other kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me! Follow You???

Thanks to MR, I now have a banner for my story.   
[](http://photobucket.com)  


The knights, their freedom celebrations interrupted, stood in the tavern courtyard listening to Arthur explain their latest mission.

“Knights, my brothers, we are charged with crossing the wall, travelling north through Woad country to save an esteemed and very influential Roman family whose son might grow up to be the future Pope, or not, before the Saxon invaders reach their villa. We then are to return with said family and all the local villagers via the most perilous route available before reaching the safety of this fort.”

Stunned silence greeted his fervent declaration.

“So, any questions?”

“Any f******g questions!!!!!” came the incredulous response from the back of the crowd.

“Ouch! What was that for?” a peeved Galahad asked as he rubbed the side of his head where it had been slapped by Gawain.

“Because you question everything he says, everything everyone says for that matter.” An aggravated Gawain replied.

“Do not.”

“Do.”

“Do not.” 

“Do.”

“Ouch” was the twin response, as the arguing knights rubbed their heads where an equally frustrated Dagonet had bashed them together.

“He started it,” grumbled Gawain.

“Did not,” snapped Galahad.

“Oh shut up, the pair of you. Arthur needs our help,” professed Dagonet. “And help we should. After all we are the loyal knights of Arthur’s famous round table. We travel the land using might for right and we fight the good fight. We free the oppressed, rescue the enslaved, we laugh at danger and thrive on peril and we go where others fear to tread. We…”

“Give it a bleeding rest,” interrupted Gawain, “I know already. Not like I haven’t heard it all before.” 

Dagonet slinked away, pride dented, to stand near his beloved Arthur, waiting with bated breath to be sent to his death at the behest of his trusted leader. He would follow him anywhere; do anything for him, be anything he wanted if only he would ask.

Meanwhile Galahad and Gawain continued to debate the mission. 

“I seriously question your loyalty to Arthur, like it or not we should help, Dagonet is right we pledged ourselves to Arthur’s cause for better or worse. How many times have we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat?” asked Gawain of his younger pouting friend.

Galahad, insulted by his friend’s comment tried to explain, “I truly believe in my heart that I have a right to complain because Arthur ordered us on a suicide mission…” 

“…and we were going to be free tomorrow?” inquired Gawain.

“No, Sir Know-it-all, because I’m young and handsome and have a full life ahead of me and most importantly, I haven’t graduated to full armour yet. Wouldn’t you question your loyalty if he made you wear a skirt every time you went into battle? Old Dag-Gone over here would wear tar and feathers if Arthur asked; his blind loyalty will ultimately lead to his death. I, on the other hand, want to decide what is worth fighting for and what is not. Read my lips, I WANT TO LIVE, but if the Gods decree otherwise then _pleeeease_ let me die wearing long pants!”

“I wear long pants,” chipped in Tristan, cutting another piece of apple.

Gawain turned to the scout, who usually couldn’t find the door let alone the enemy, and said, “Hey Sir Sorry-I-got-lost-again, stick that in your mouth or I’ll shove it wear the sun doesn’t shine.”

Tristan shrugged and left to find Dagonet; trouble was he couldn’t remember what the man looked like.

Lancelot leaned against a post and watched it all unfold around him. It was always the same, an endless argument over the rights and wrongs of blind faith versus commonsense. Lance knew that Arthur had always led them wisely and they for their part had repaid him with their trust and loyalty, well most of the time that is. They rarely questioned his authority; well all right they occasionally questioned it. They usually accepted his orders without complaint. Well maybe they had discussed them a little over the years, when it seemed that they were being led into something completely inane. Oh, all right, he admitted to himself, there were times when they thought Arthur was a complete tool and they refused to even go out the gate. I mean, after all, who wanted to go to their death with the epitaph “at least they could take an order.” Right! Not us. However, despite those few times best not dwelt on, Lancelot would have followed Arthur to the edge of the world, but tonight he was royally pissed. Arthur asked the impossible, and here was Lance wanting to support his friend but not wanting to go out on yet another Roman misadventure. Some things were more constant than loyalty and one was the Roman propensity to bugger everything up!

So while Lancelot considered their situation, Tristan searched for Dagonet, having passed him countless times standing in front of Arthur but not recognising him. Nearby Galahad and Gawain continued to argue the finer points of duty versus loyalty and the benefits of long trousers, while an ashen faced Bors strode towards Arthur shoving the hero worshipping Dagonet aside and into the path of the confused Tristan who merely steadied the knight and continued to seek his missing friend. 

“I don’t want to go,” Bors said “Vanora would cut me off at the crown jewels if I went out again. She says she’s fed up, needs quality time with me and time out from all our little bastards. Oh, Arthur, don’t do this mate, you know I’d follow you to Rome and back but Arthur this is Vanora we’re talking about. She’s a little toey at the moment if you know what I mean.”

“Bors these are our orders…”

“F***, I don’t care Arthur,” declared Bors backing away quickly. “She out ranks you mate, she’s the Commanding Officer. You’re just the bloody Roman Commander. If you can convince her to let me go then I’ll be there with bells on, otherwise I’m stayin’ put with my tackle in one piece.”

“All right, I’ll speak to her,” muttered Arthur.

“Knights, we leave at first light and when we return, your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with -” 

“Promise you’ll talk to Vanora because if I get killed she’ll ‘ave you?”

“I promise I’ll speak to her as soon as we are finished here,” assured Arthur.

Tristan stumbled past Bors exclaiming, “We’re all going to die someday. If it’s death by a Saxon hand that frightens you – stay home.” 

“Back off, bird boy, it’s not the Saxons that bother me!” Bors yelled. Turning to Arthur he added, “Remember your promise, Arthur.”

“Well, if you’re so eager to die, you can die right here!” Galahad screamed as he lunged at Tristan. “I’ve got something to live for!” 

“What, long pants?” Tristan spat back as he retreated from the agitated knight.

Gawain raced to restrain the youngest knight but Lancelot reached him first, tackling Galahad to the ground before the man could deck the scout. Tristan, in his efforts to evade Galahad’s attack, stumbled into Dagonet, apologising for knocking who he thought was an innocent by-stander. All the while Bors kept tugging Arthur’s tunic pleading for protection if Vanora turned feral and Dagonet appealed for calm, which of course went unnoticed as the knights continued to careen uncontrollably around the courtyard. 

“Fellow Knights,” Dagonet yelled above the cacophony, “the Romans have broken their word, but we have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I’ll prepare.”

Dagonet turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Bors, you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming!” Bors shouted back. “Can’t let you go on your own; you’ll all get killed!” Turning back to Arthur he reminded his trusted leader once more to talk to Vanora, just in case he had forgotten with all the commotion going on.

Arthur groaned and through gritted teeth told Bors, “I am heading there shortly my friend, you go prepare for the journey. I’m sure Dagonet could do with your help.”

“Thank you Arthur you have my loyalty and my sword.” Turning to face the throng, Bors called for Dagonet to wait for him.

“Hey, you know where Dagonet is?” Tristan asked. “I go with you; he’s been missing all night you know,” the scout explained, as he followed Bors in search of the elusive Dagonet. 

Arthur somewhat frazzled turned to Gawain asking, “And you?”

“I’m with you, Arthur,” he replied. “Galahad as well.”

Galahad, who was now vertical again, having been released by Lancelot once Tristan had left the area, stared at Gawain in utter astonishment.

“I’ll go, but only if I can wear long pants.”

“Wwwhat!?” said Arthur shaking his head in disbelief.

“I said,” Galahad stated in a slow and deliberate voice, “I will go if I can wear long pants.”

“Are you telling me your loyalty to your friends and to me depends on your attire?”

“Ah…yep, that just about sums it up.”

“Fine. If you can find a pair of pants that fit you, I hereby decree that you, Sir Galahad, have earned the right to stand by my side in good times and bad, wearing long pants.” 

“All right, you’re the man Arthur,” said Galahad. “Well, I guess then I’ll see you in the morning.” 

As Galahad happily skipped after Gawain, the last thing Arthur heard was the young knight calling out, “Yo Gawain, can I borrow some pants?”

That left Lancelot. He alone had said nothing about the situation, although Arthur was sure the man had been mulling over the go, don’t go, dilemma. Arthur stared at him but Lancelot showed no signs of wanting to talk. Considering the fracas that had just gone on, Arthur was delighted that he didn’t have to face further interrogation from another disgruntled knight. To that end he walked away, leaving Lancelot to his solitary thoughts.

Of course it wasn’t over yet there was still Vanora, and she was more formidable than the unwashed rampaging Saxons. Knocking at the door of Vanora’s lodgings he heard the dulcet tones of Bors’ beloved.

“Who the f*** is that at this time of night?”

Arthur took a deep, steading breath and cheerfully called out “Vanora my dear, mind if I come in?”

 

Sometime later a bedraggled Arthur sought refuge and solitude in the stable. He loved his men, really he did, but there were times when they sorely tried his patience. They were fearsome warriors, devoted and loyal to each other and to him, but oh by all that was holy in heaven they were stubborn, argumentative bastards that drove him to the brink of despair and beyond. Frustrated and weary he fell to his knees beseeching his God. 

“O merciful God, I have a huge favour to ask and I trust you’re listening, because this frigging straw is sticking into my knees and believe me I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t think I would get something out of this. So, about my knights, you know them all, the Grumble Twins, Ball-less, Dag-Gone, Lost Again, and Follow-Or-Not are in need of your mercy now. This is truly their hour of need. Deliver them from this useless mission ahead and I will repay you a thousand fold with any sacrifice you ask of me. And if in your wisdom, you should determine that that sacrifice must be my life for theirs, think again. Surely you could take a few extra bad boys and leave my trusty bunch alone; so that they can once again taste the freedom that has so long been denied to them, I will gladly make that covenant. Besides their life sort of guarantees mine, as you bloody well know, oh omnipotent one. If I come back without Bors, Vanora will kill me anyway and then there really would have been no purpose to my life. I ask no more than that, well at the moment anyway.”

His prayers were interrupted by a skulking Lancelot.

“Why do you always talk to your God and not to me?” 

“Oh by the love of God,” muttered Arthur, rolling his eyes to the heavens in frustration as he turned to face Lance-oh-whinge-a-lot’s grievances. “And the hits just keep on coming...” 

 

The next morning Arthur and his loyal knights assembled in the courtyard. Arthur looked at his men, Lancelot was there still mumbling about going on another obviously perilous quest, Dagonet declaring his undying devotion, Tristan, who had to be re-introduced to Dagonet so that he could help him if they were attacked, Gawain groaning every time Galahad opened his mouth, Galahad preening and demanding everyone look at his now covered legs, and Bors sitting proudly in the saddle ready to support his leader no matter what occurred. Yes, Arthur was indeed a fortunate man to have instilled such loyalty in his men.

“Let us depart, my brothers,” he announced. “Our help is required.”

The knights rode out of the fort and on to an uncertain destiny. Arthur led them but all the while he was desperately trying to tune out the conversations that were going on behind him…

“Why are we going this way?" asked Galahad.

“Shut up," Gawain said. "Why do you always question everything he says?"

“Yes, be quiet Galahad," Dagonet agreed. “After all, we are the loyal knights of Arthur’s famous round table. We travel the land using might for right and we fight the good fight. We free the oppressed…”

“Oh, put a sock in it,” Gawain grumbled.

“Who died and made you Pope?” asked Tristan, then turning to Galahad he said, “Cute pants, bit big aren’t they?” 

Galahad drew his sword in an effort to skewer the scout. Gawain pulled him back and told Tristan to bugger off.

Tristan rode past Dagonet asking who he was again before stopping next to Bors. 

“Hey, why are you wearing bells?” he asked inquisitively.

“Nick off, numb nuts,” growled a jingling Bors.

Meanwhile Lancelot continued to complain to anyone in earshot about why they were going out again and why they should have been at the fort and why this was all wrong….

…and so it went all the way through Woad country as they rode to save an esteemed and very influential Roman family whose son might grow up to be the future Pope...oh bring on the Saxons thought Arthur, what price bloody loyalty, it can’t get any worse than this.

 

**The End**


End file.
